“Perhaps you’ve just been doing it with the wrong person,” Aziraphale said archly, and before Crowley could react at all, he had raised his hand to order a bottle of Veuve Clicquot and arrange for another to be sent to a table where a couple had just gotten quietly engaged. He hated showy proposals. Crowley, of course, had invented the flash mob, and then regretted it after he was caught in the middle of one six times in a single day when he was only trying to lounge about London in a decorative fashion.

While digitizing the BBC archives, an intern who asked to remain anonymous discovered a transcript of a lost episode of the Great British Bake Off. The paper could neither be photocopied nor scanned as all the copies came out blank; and the actual footage was never found.

Piper was gazing into the bubbling depths of her champagne as though its very existence underwhelmed her. At such an early stage, Greenmantle was not yet to know that everything underwhelmed Piper; that Piper suffered, in fact, from a chronic lack of whelm. “I’m sick of this place," she said, with sudden vehemence. "I’m sick of all these men. I’m sick of all of it. Everything. Don’t bore me.”

Greenmantle told her, “I’m congenitally incapable of boring anyone.”

“Prove it,” said Piper.

(Nothing in the world has ever proved quite as difficult to obtain as Piper.)

In which this whole dungeon thing really isn’t working for Kate Bishop, there are far too many nicknames from the Victorian era, socks are vitally important, and Clint insists he is Han Solo in this situation.

"Why do you let him use your personal line?" Jack snaps at Chilton one particularly trying day, when Will has returned from a twenty minute bathroom break prompted by the buzzing of his phone to study crime scene photographs with bright interest and upbeat speculations on the psychopathy of their serial killer. "The length of an inmate's calls is supposed to be restricted!"

What happens at the North American Lycanthropy and Leadership Symposium stays at the North American Lycanthropy and Leadership Symposium. // Or, Stiles is totally going to be the best fake boyfriend ever. According to Allison and Lydia, he and Scott rate 17/20 in believability and 19/20 in cuteness. They’ve got this shit locked down.

Got your final report yesterday on Project LV-426. I'm amazed. Great work all around. It's been forwarded to the Chair, our friends at the Pentagon, the Defense Appropriations Committee, and DARPA. The acid-resistant armor is something that should really catch their eye.

We're expecting some big grant money from this.

Burke

Burke,

Did you read even the executive summary of my report? There are some interesting biomaterials that we could work with, but I stressed, multiple times, that this creature is far too dangerous to even consider using in military research projects. It's aggressive, stupid, vicious, aggressive, impossible to train, and did I mention aggressive?

. . .their limbs work on hydraulic principles and operate under pressure, which is why they splurt like a popped water balloon when they get hit in those Marine camera feeds we saw. A slight wound to a limb takes them right the hell out of commission, and now your troops have to deal with an insanely aggressive and stupid xenomorphic K-9 unit that oh by the way IS BLEEDING ACID.

"His dad is probably going to tell Stiles not to hang out with us," says Boyd, taking a sip of his Coke.

Isaac gives Derek an utterly betrayed look, and Erica glares at him. "I told you not to wear those sunglasses!" she hisses.

"What if Stiles can't hang out with us any more?" says Isaac wretchedly. "What if Scott doesn't want to hang out with us because --"

"I said those were pedophile sunglasses!" says Erica, in a quiet, piercing whisper that makes Derek's ears hurt.

Boyd continues eating his gyro, which he has laid out on a plate like a salad on a piece of flatbread, methodically picking out the tomatoes, feta and lamb and laying them to the side to eat after the lettuce. Boyd would eat his gyro if there was a bomb going off.

Loki hadn't been observed with a new scepter, and there had yet to be another alien invasion, but he was still a supervillain. SHIELD was on high alert for three months.

Which was when the new season of Project Runway started airing, and one of the designers strutting his stuff in the opening, boldly declaring, "I'll show you mortals how to make it work," set off every facial recognition program SHIELD had.